Put It Out There Read online

  After I saw my dad’s car accident happen, I attempted to block all my intuitions. I promised myself the new Derian would no longer have visions. Unfortunately, despite determined effort on my part, I couldn’t stop them.

  “What did you see?” Trevor asked.

  I should have known he wouldn’t let me off the hook. “Nothing. It was a headache.”

  He frowned and focused on the road. “I’ve known you most of your life. I know what it means when you get that look on your face. You don’t have to pretend you don’t get premonitions. It’s me.”

  “They aren’t premonitions. They’re useless images, like crazy dreams. It was nothing. Nothing that makes any sense.”

  “They aren’t useless. Search and Rescue teams are helped by intuitive and clairvoyant people all the time. While I was in Peru, I met a woman who finds missing children. I told her about you. She recommended I read her book. She says people with natural intuition can practice and get better at it, just like any other skill. I brought it home for you to read.”

  I opened my bag and dug through it, hoping there was something I could use as a distraction to avoid the conversation. There wasn’t anything. “Why would I want to get good at seeing traumatic things I can’t do anything about?”

  “The better you get at it, the more likely it will be useful. Maybe you’ll save someone’s life someday.”

  I slouched in the seat and crossed my arms over my chest, fixing my attention on the rock face next to the highway. “A lot of good it did my dad. I saw it happen in exact, excruciating detail and couldn’t prevent it. He still died.”

  Trevor glanced at me with empathy in his eyes. “Your dad’s accident wasn’t your fault, Deri.”

  I shrugged and fought to swallow down the emotion in my throat. “Either way, I want to practice not having intuition at all, not practice to get better at it.”

  We drove in silence. He probably wanted to convince me my brain glitch was a huge asset, but fortunately he let it go. “How are you feeling about being back at school in Squamish?”

  Thankful to talk about anything other than my flawed neurology, I said, “Excited and nervous, I guess. It will be awkward at first when they all try to be sensitive about my dad. Hopefully that won’t last long and everything goes back to normal.” As soon as I said it, I regretted using the word “normal”. My life was never going back to the way it was. It was never going to feel normal again. I exhaled, trying to steel myself for the day ahead.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  In an attempt to lighten the mood, I joked, “Yeah. Anything is better than living with my mom.”

  A deep crease etched between his eyebrows. “She’s not that bad,” he said quietly.

  Before my dad died, my mom lived in our apartment in downtown Vancouver and only came up to Britannia on the weekends, which was great growing up. Living full-time with my dad at the Inn had worked perfectly since he and I were essentially the same person—nature-lovers, bookish, and artistic. The opposite of my mom. Since Trevor’s mom left them, he always thought I should appreciate the fact that I, at least, had a mom, even if she and I had nothing in common. My whole childhood, he had encouraged me to try harder to get along with her.

  I knew I needed to get over my issues with my mom, especially after losing my dad. I just didn’t know how. After my dad died, my mom refused to drive on the highway between Vancouver and Britannia, where the accident happened. She acted like it was a panic attack thing, but I knew it was just her convenient excuse to never step foot in Britannia Beach again and to guilt me into moving to Vancouver.

  I tried to make living with her work. I really did. I enrolled in the stuffy private school she had always wanted me to go to. I joined the clubs she thought would look good on my university applications. I attended the counselling sessions she insisted on, so I could “process my grief”. None of it made any difference. I missed my friends in Squamish, I missed my granddad, and most of all I missed Britannia Beach. My mom and I got on each other’s nerves. Her standards for everything were impossibly high, she worried so much it was suffocating, and I hated every minute of living in the loud, crowded city. Moving back to the Inn saved me. And I wasn’t sure I could survive losing it too.

  Trevor and I didn’t talk for the rest of the drive, which was something I actually always appreciated about him. He was comfortable with quiet, like my dad. And like me. But his silence felt different, more serious. As if something had changed between us in the year I was gone. He didn’t even look at me again until we pulled up in front of my school and shifted into park.

  Things still felt odd between us. I wasn’t sure how to handle it and ended up sounding awkwardly formal. “Thank you for the ride, Trevor. Have a good day.”

  “I’ll be done work at four-thirty if you want a ride home.”

  “Sure. I’ll meet you back here.”

  After I stepped out and shut the door, the window rolled down.

  “Hey.” He grinned with his chin tilted in a cocky way. “Do you really think I’m good-looking like that guy in Kailyn’s magazine?”

  And there it was. We were back to normal. The teasing was going to be relentless. I shook my head and made a snarky face. “Don’t let it go to your gigantic head.”

  “Too late.” He waved and drove away.

  At least our relationship felt familiar and easy again. Which was good, since I had a feeling going back to my old school was going to be way harder than I had anticipated.

  CHAPTER TWO

  My best friend Sophie Sakamoto wasn’t hard to spot in her black-and-white-striped knee-high stockings, black micro-mini skirt, and fluorescent lime-green tank top. She lounged on the front steps of the school with her boyfriend and some of the guys from their band. Her boyfriend Doug was in grade twelve and they’d been dating for almost two years. They came down to Vancouver almost every weekend to hang out with me when I lived there, thankfully. The loneliness would have been unbearable if they hadn’t. Doug had shaved his dark faux-hawk into a buzz cut since I last saw him. It suited the dark-rimmed punk glasses he wore. Most people got the wrong impression about Doug because he was a musician who wore leather and had tattoos up his neck—well, maybe it wasn’t entirely the wrong impression.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, loud enough for them to hear me, but quietly enough to not make a huge scene. At least, that was the goal. I should have known Sophie wouldn’t let my re-initiation to the school slide without a bit of a scene.

  She shot up and squealed as she lunged over to hug me. “Oh my God. Welcome back. You are not allowed to leave me ever again. The boredom was torture.” She turned to the boys. “No offence.”

  They all laughed, knowing full well it was intended to be an insult. She leaned back to check out my outfit. Normally, she was the one up on fashion, and I couldn’t have cared less. The suede boots were one of the expensive items my mom had bought for me while I was living with her.

  “Damn, Derian, you look stylish.” She tickled my waist. “All we need now is to get you a boyfriend.”

  I glared at her and whispered, “I’m happily single. Thanks. You want to keep your voice down a little? Please.”

  “Why are you turning all red?” she teased. She was going to take it as far as she could, just to amuse herself. And maybe also to get back at me for leaving her alone for a whole year. “Hey, Doug,” Sophie called over to him. “You think Derian looks hot with her new look?”

  Doug laughed. “Is that a trap?”

  “Nope.”

  To my horror, Doug and a couple of other guys on the steps all checked me out. Doug pushed his glasses up, studied my suede boots, then moved his gaze up my legs, over my skirt, paused for a second at my pink button-up sweater, and finished at my face. “Yup,” he said.

  “Smokin’,” another guy added.

  “See,” Sophie encouraged.

  I turned sideways and folded my arms across my chest. “You can stop humiliating me. I’m sorry I left yo
u for a year. It’s not like I wanted to.”

  Her expression changed into sympathy before she hugged me again. “I understand why you didn’t come back last year. I’m not mad at you, and I wasn’t kidding. You look beautiful. But you’ve always been beautiful—even in worn yoga pants and muddy hiking boots.”

  “Thank you.” I sighed and tugged down the hem of my skirt. It wasn’t about the clothes. The look was only supposed to be symbolic of a fresh new start. I thought a new image would help me move on and leave the pain of losing my dad in the past. I hadn’t done it to please my mom, or get attention, or pretend to be someone I wasn’t, but if it was going to seem like that, I would prefer for everyone to treat me like the old Derian and pretend like nothing had changed. The only problem was, everything had changed. And it had nothing to do with how I dressed.

  Sophie slapped my hand to make me stop fidgeting. Then she gasped, dug her fingers into my arms, and spun me around. A guy I’d never seen before closed the driver’s door of a black Mercedes coupe. He ran his left hand through his caramel-coloured hair as he turned to look at the school. Then he lifted the tan leather strap of his bag over his head, adjusted it across his chest, and glanced at all the students milling around on the grass and the front steps. “Holy shit. Who is that?” Sophie whispered.

  I didn’t respond. I just watched him. He walked smoothly and confidently for a few steps, then looked down at the ground for a step—as if what he was doing was the last thing he wanted to be doing. His grey trousers, light blue-grey shirt, and expensive-looking black dress shoes were not the typical look for our high school. His skin was tanned like he’d just gotten back from the south of France or something, and his shiny silver watch must have cost a fortune. When he got close enough that I could tell he was over six-feet tall, and his eyes were the most intoxicating shade of blue, he smiled. It was a shy smile. His chin was down, but he glanced up briefly before flashing his insanely white and perfectly straight teeth at Sophie.

  She and I both stared at him as he continued towards the front door of the school and disappeared inside. “He’s beautiful.” Sophie sighed.

  “And he smiled at you,” I whispered, as I checked to see if Doug was listening. He wasn’t paying attention.

  “He didn’t smile at me, you geek.” Sophie smacked my arm with the back of her hand. “He smiled at you.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Ya, he did. I’ll get the 411 on him for you.” She jiggled around excitedly.

  “What? No. I don’t want you to do that.”

  “Hi Derian,” a male voice interrupted us before I had a chance to axe her scheme.

  I jumped a little because I hadn’t even noticed Steve Rawlings walk up. He was a friend who sat on student council with me the year before I left. He looked different. He’d grown about six inches and got his braces off. His hair was cut really short—probably because it was the first day of school. He was kind of a keener like that. He actually looked cute.

  “Hi Steve.”

  “Welcome back, Deri. Are you coming to peer mentoring?”

  “Oh, I didn’t sign up to be a mentor.”

  “I know, but I remembered you said you wanted to be a mentor in junior year. So, when I heard you were coming back, I signed you up. Hope that’s okay. Mr. Orton said he was going to send you an email. Sorry. He must have forgotten. I would have told you, but I don’t have your email or phone number. It’s cool if you have other things you need to do.”

  “I did, I mean, I do want to be a mentor. Yeah, thanks.”

  Sophie grabbed my elbow to hold me back. “She’ll be right with you,” she said to Steve, then whispered in my ear, “I’ll fill you in on the new guy by lunch.”

  “What? No. Don’t embarrass me,” I hissed back.

  She giggled in a maniacal way, held up two fingers in a peace sign, and moved to lean against Doug. Doug draped his arm over her shoulders and kissed her neck. There wasn’t any way to stop her once her mind was set on something, so I didn’t bother to protest more before I walked away.

  “Do you want me to carry your bag?” Steve offered.

  “Oh, it’s basically empty. But thanks for asking.”

  He smiled in a nervous way that made me feel vicariously awkward.

  It took a while, but I eventually came up with something to say to break the silence. “You grew a lot since I saw you last.”

  His face winced slightly, maybe wishing I hadn’t reminded him he used to be smaller than me. “A bit.”

  “And have you been working out or something?”

  His cheeks definitely went red at that point, which wasn’t the effect I was going for. “I’ve been coaching tennis at the community centre.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know you played.”

  “I’ve been on the school tennis team since grade eight.” He looked a little hurt that I didn’t know.

  “Right, I knew that,” I scrambled. Truthfully, football was the only sport I paid attention to since it was what Trevor had played in high school.

  Steve chuckled, “I was on student council with you too. My name’s Steve. Do you at least remember that?”

  I squished up my face and squinted exaggeratedly. “You look vaguely familiar,” I joked, and we walked into the students’ lounge, where the grade eights were all huddled around, chattering.

  The chairs were set up in two rows facing each other. Our principal yelled for the mentors to sit along one side. Steve and I sat beside each other and talked as we waited for our buddies to be assigned. A tiny girl with strawberry curls sat down in the chair in front of Steve. She grinned shyly and her cheeks turned pink as if she thought Steve was one of the celebrities in Kailyn’s magazine.

  “Hi. I’m Steve Rawlings.” He reached his arm out and shook her hand.

  She scanned the room, as if she hoped her friends could see that she lucked out and got a hot guy as her mentor. My buddy was as small as the girl and even a little skinnier. He had dark hair and very pale skin. His eyes were hard to see because he wore wire-rimmed glasses, and he hadn’t looked up since he sat down.

  “Hi. I’m Derian. What’s your name?”

  He glanced up. His eyes were big and brown. He focused back down at his lap and said, with an adorable cartoon-pitched voice, “Nikolai.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nikolai. Do you have any questions about high school so far?”

  His head tilted up, but he didn’t speak.

  “That’s what I’m here for. If you need anything at all, just ask me.”

  He shook his head—not like he didn’t have any questions, more like he was too afraid to ask them.

  “When I was in grade eight I wanted to know lots of things.” I pulled out the map from his student agenda and showed him where all the important things were. “This is where my locker is.” I marked it with a circle on the map. “If you need anything just come find me.”

  He smiled a little and looked around nervously, as if he expected someone to spring on him or something. At that point, the principal shouted instructions again.

  After we walked our buddies to their lockers and pointed them in the right direction for their first classes, I asked Steve, “Were we that cute in grade eight?”

  “You were. I definitely wasn’t. What’s your first class?”

  “Um,” I opened my binder and read my schedule. “English with Mrs. Tookey.”

  “Kooky Tookey. Me too. May I have the honour of escorting you to class, Miss Lafleur?” He presented his arm so I could hook my arm around his elbow like a Jane Austen character.

  “Certainly, my dear sir.”

  We sat beside each other halfway down the aisle of desks in Mrs. Tookey’s classroom. She really was kooky. She breezed in with a trail of rainbow scarves twisting behind her. Her hair was clumped into long dirty-blonde dreads and tied into a ponytail with a red shoelace. It was a style that matched her long peasant skirt, Birkenstock sandals, and pink socks. I chuckled a little as she took in a deep breath
and smiled at us lovingly. “Namaste,” she said.

  The entire class stared at her, not sure how to respond.

  She pressed her palms together in a prayer position and bowed. “All right, before we jump right into work I would like everyone to take a moment to set an intention for this year.”

  Lisa Alvarez, who acted like a teacher’s pet and got away with things because of her looks, shot her hand up and asked, “Intention for what?”

  Mrs. Tookey smiled adoringly. “Whatever you wish—the sky is the limit. If you want something to be, just think about it happening. The universe will provide it for you when the timing is right.”

  Lisa glanced at Steve, he looked at me. A bunch of guys at the back of the class laughed. I could only imagine what types of things they were going to wish for. Steve shot a quick look at the guys behind him and smiled. Then he looked back at me and tried to appear serious again.

  “Think of something in this world you wish would become a reality for you,” Mrs. Tookey continued. “All right, everyone close your eyes. Rest your feet firmly on the ground. Relax. Feel your breath flow in and out. Think about what you wish would come true for you—something that will bring you supreme happiness. Now put it out there.”

  The guys at the back snickered again. Mrs. Tookey cleared her throat, annoyed. I thought about what I wanted my intention to be. The only thing I wanted with all my heart was for my dad not to be dead. There weren’t enough intentions in the world to make that true. Wishing for my dream car made me seem kind of materialistic since other people had way less than I did. Straight As were achievable without intervention from the universe. Hopefully, getting kissed for the first time was a milestone I could also achieve on my own accord. I clenched my eyes shut and set an intention that meant something: I will find a way to earn enough money to do the renovations so Granddad will be able to keep the Inn.